VERSES  OF  A  SHORT 


By  L.   W.   H. 


\ 
\ 


.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELA 


Verses  of  a  Short  Life 

Poems  and  Poetical  Quips  of 
Lewis  Woodruff  Hornblower 

(1888-1913) 


Edited  by  G.  S.  H. 


New  York 

George  H.  Doran  Company 
MCMXIV 


Copyright,  1914 
Br  KATHBRINE  BELDBN  HORNBLOWER 


"He  who  could  breathe  the  incense  of  the  East 
Listen  to  music  of  the  Southern  palms, 
Thrill  at  the  thunders  of  our  Western  strife 
And  glimpse  the  frozen  glitter  of  the  North, 
Could  walk  with  sages  on  Parnassus  slopes, 
Gaze  upon  Eleusynian  mysteries, 
Romp  with  the  young  Olympians  at  play 
And  stroll  in  palace  gardens  of  bright  clouds — 
Would  you  ask  him  to  plod  the  travelled  path, 
Straight  and  unswerving,  deaf  to  wildwood  calls, 
Closing  his  eyes  to  flowers  along  the  edge, 
Steeling  his  heart  against  fair  frolic's  lures? 

Your  life  is  not  the  route  for  such  a  one; 
Your  guide-posts  merely  mock  him  riddlewise; 
Your  rules  are  not  the  vestments  that  will  fit 
The  lithe,  quick-darting  movements  of  his  soul. 
He  wearies  on  your  smoothest,  proudest  street; 
He  sickens  where  your  dull,  gray  pavement  runs; 
And,  tho'  he  help  you  drive  your  market-wain, 
Bending  him  to  the  work  with  honest  zeal — 
One  moment's  pause;  his  heart  breaks,  and  he  dies. 


Think  of  him  as  the  bearer  of  a  cup 
Wherein  the  wine  of  being,  seething  up, 
Sparkled  with  iridescence  as  it  flowed 
To  warm  his  fellow  travellers  of  the  road, 
To  cheer  the  jaded,  animate  the  dull — 
His  heart,  the  cup,  alas  no  longer  full." 

Anonymous 


VERSES   OF   A   SHORT   LIFE 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Memoir  and  Preface  (by  the  Editor)     .      .  9 

Memory  *x 17 

Invocation  *x      .           19 

Not  in  the  Moonlight1 21 

The  Storm  Birds  *x 23 

In  Dreams  Alone    .      ...     i     ...  25 

The  Toast** 27 

Prince  Ahmed          ........  28 

Sailing1 31 

The  North  Pole  *x  ........  33 

A  Slight  Mistake  **      .......  35 

Change  *x      ..........  37 

Contra  Elegiam  ** 39 

The  Mirage  *x .  41 

Fanatics*1 43 

The  Sylvan  Dance  *x 45 

Fragment 47 


CONTENTS 


Page 

A  Skirt  Dance         48 

She  Smiles x 49 

A  Landscape 51 

Resignation*1 52 

A  Boy  Poet's  First  Song 54 

Another  Juvenile  Effort 56 

With  a  Guitar  * 59 

Lawrenceville  1900  Class  Ode  *  .     .     .     .60 

"Olla  Podrida"  Dedication  f        ....  63 

On  a  Greek  Condition 65 

The  Elect 67 

Plato  Versified 68 

Narcissus  (to  a  He-Heroine) 71 

On  a  Course  of  Lectures 73 

"Ode"  to  a  Friend 74 

A  Flippant  Letter 75 

Betrayed  by  a  Dream 80 

Supplanted 81 

One  Bathing  Suit 83 

Translation  from  Tennyson 86 

A  Rash  Betrothal 87 

Sans  Gene  Philosophy1 9° 

[6] 


CONTENTS 


Page 

A  Scene  at  the  Khan 93 

Book  First  of  Lucretius 100 

An  Ode  of  Horace1 115 

From  the  Anacreontics 117 

After  Sophocles* 119 

A  Letter  Home* 121 

As  Sunset  Dies 124 

Thalassa  .  126 


*  Published  in  "The  Wooing  of  Boreas  and  Other  Poems 
by  L.W.H.,"  Bonnell,  Silver  &  Bowers,  New  York,  1904; 

*  Originally   published   in   the   "Lawrenceville   Literary 
Magazine,"  edited  by  the  students  at  Lawrenceville,  N.  J., 
1898-1900; 

t  Published  in  the  "Olla  Podrida,"  issued  by  the  grad- 
uating class  of  Lawrenceville  School,  June,  1900. 


MEMOIR  AND  PREFACE 

Lewis  Woodruff  Hornblower,  who  died  sud- 
denly August  22nd,  1913,  was  born  in  New  York 
City,  April  isth,  1883,  the  eldest  son  of  William 
Butler  Hornblower  and  the  late  Susan  (C.)  San- 
ford  Hornblower. 

From  1894  to  1896  he  attended  the  Chapin  Col- 
legiate School  in  New  York  and,  in  the  autumn  of 
1896,  he  entered  Lawrenceville  School  at  Lawrence- 
ville,  New  Jersey.  There  he  studied  for  four  years 
and  took  some  scholarship  honors  and  a  debating 
prize.  In  his  last  year  at  school  he  was  Editor-in- 
chief  of  the  Lawrenceville  Literary  Magazine  and 
also  Class  Poet.  He  graduated  from  Lawrenceville 
in  June,  1900,  and  entered  Princeton  University 
the  following  September.  At  college,  though  he 
won  a  prize  for  extemporaneous  speaking  in  the 
Cliosophic  Society,  he  did  not  seek  any  honors, 
choosing  to  devote  most  of  his  time  to  independent 
reading,  especially  of  history.  In  June,  1904,  he  re- 
ceived his  degree  of  A.B.  from  Princeton.  He  en- 
tered the  Columbia  University  Law  School  the  next 
autumn,  but,  finding  jurisprudence  an  uncongenial 
study,  abandoned  it  after  a  few  weeks. 

For  about  a  year  thereafter  he  travelled  in  Eu- 
rope, keenly  enjoying  Mediterranean  scenery  and 

[9] 


MEMOIR    AND    PREFACE 


Italian  art  and  continuing  his  historical  reading 
to  advantage.  Upon  his  return  to  this  coun- 
try, he  took  up  the  study  of  architecture;  and 
the  next  seven  years  of  his  life  were  spent  in  work- 
ing as  an  architect,  except  for  short  periods  in 
other  lines  of  work  and  various  periods  when  he 
was  travelling  or  when  his  health  was  not  good. 

On  October  28th,  1908,  at  Litchfield,  Connecti- 
cut, Mr.  Hornblower  was  married  to  Katherine 
Webster  Belden,  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Dr. 
and  Mrs.  Charles  O.  Belden. 

In  the  Summer  of  1912,  he  entered  the  employ  of 
the  Carolina,  Clinchfield  &  Ohio  Railway  as  an  ac- 
countant in  the  auditing  department  at  Johnson 
City,  Tennessee.  He  and  his  wife  had  a  house 
built  there  from  plans  drawn  by  him,  and  they  were 
living  in  this  house  at  the  time  of  his  death.  He 
was  much  interested  in  his  work  for  the  railway 
company  and  his  superiors  valued  his  services 
highly,  speaking  in  enthusiastic  terms  of  his  indus- 
try, his  quickness  and  his  originality. 

In  the  evenings,  when  his  duties  were  over, 
he  amused  himself  by  writing  a  history  of  Rome 
and  the  translation  from  Lucretius,  which  he  left 
unfinished  at  the  time  of  his  death.  He  also  wrote 
a  translation  of  Dionysius'  "Roman  Antiquities," 
some  essays,  and  a  few  short  stories;  and  he  com- 
piled many  tables  and  charts  throwing  light  on 
different  subjects  of  history  and  science. 

Among  Lewis  Hornblower's  acquaintances  he 
[10] 


MEMOIR    AND    PREFACE 

was  noted  for  his  affectionate  nature,  originality 
of  intellect  and  naive,  impractical  sayings  and  do- 
ings, traits  which  have  been  well  summed  up  in 
the  comment  of  a  distinguished  writer,  once  a 
teacher  of  his,  that  "Lewis  had  a  touch  of  un- 
worldliness  about  him." 

How  his  intimate  friends  felt  about  his  charac- 
ter is,  perhaps,  best  to  be  seen  in  the  following 
passages  of  a  letter  from  a  college  classmate: 

"No  one  was  closer  to  Lewis  than  I  in  the  days 
at  Princeton,  and  I  believe  that  few  understood 
him  as  well.  .  .  .  No  man  has  failed  who  has  left 
such  an  enduring  monument  of  genuine  affection. 
.  .  .  His  friends  are  even  now  telling  over  his 
brilliant  gifts  and  his  endearing  qualities,  as  they 
will  never  cease  to  do  wherever  they  are  gathered 
together.  His  place  in  our  class  at  college  was 
unique.  Intellectually  he  commanded  the  admira- 
tion, personally  he  won  the  affection  of  all  about 
him.  There  are  many  of  us  who  might  vanish 
from  the  life  of  the  class  and  our  disappearance 
pass  almost  unnoticed;  but  it  can  be  said  of  Lewis 
that  our  undergraduate  life  would  have  been  ma- 
terially different  without  his  presence.  And  it  is 
for  the  qualities  which  have  made  this  so,  that  he 
will  be  remembered  and  beloved  always." 

His  associates  in  one  of  the  clubs  at  Princeton 
witnessed  their  remembrance  of  him  in  the  follow- 
ing minutes: 

"The  members  of  the  Princeton  Charter  Club  de- 


MEMOIR    AND    PREFACE 


sire  to  express  their  heartfelt  sorrow  at  the  death 
of  Lewis  Woodruff  Hornblower,  '04. 

"Those  who  knew  him  in  undergraduate  days  at 
Princeton  will  carry  with  them  always  the  memory 
of  his  rare  personality. 

"He  was  a  dreamer  by  nature,  with  the  instincts 
of  a  poet  and  a  marked  fondness  for  reading,  but 
intensely  responsive  to  the  human  side  of  life. 
Endowed  with  an  exceptional  mind,  he  enhanced 
the  attractiveness  of  his  gifts  by  his  simplicity  of 
manner  and  his  total  lack  of  self-consciousness. 
His  sympathies  were  quick  and  unfailing,  espe- 
cially when  enlisted  in  the  interests  of  a  friend, 
whether  in  cheerful  activities  or  in  time  of  trouble. 

"We  shall  remember  him  always  as  the  most 
lovable  of  companions,  the  most  loyal  of  friends. 

"It  is  the  wish  of  the  Club  that  this  memorial  be 
spread  upon  the  minutes  of  the  Board  of  Gov- 
ernors, and  that  a  copy  be  sent  to  his  family. — 

Archibald  Mel.  Strong,  '04, 
John  A.  Stewart,  3rd,  '05, 
G.  Bartram  Woodruff,  '04, 
Oliver  C.  Reynolds,  '04, 
William  Balch  Todd,  Jr.,  '03, 
Committee." 

This  book  is  printed  at  the  request  of  many 
friends,  who  value  these  souvenirs  of  "Lev" 
and  believe  that  most  of  his  poems  have  in- 
trinsic merit.  The  author  was  inclined  to  dis- 

[12] 


MEMOIR    AND    PREFACE 


parage  his  own  work,  and  he  had  no  part  in  the 
publication  of  "The  Wooing  of  Boreas  and  Other 
Poems  by  L.  W.  H.,"  a  limited  edition  of  his  juve- 
nile writings  issued  in  1904  by  Bonnell,  Silver  & 
Bowers  of  New  York,  at  the  friendly  instance  of 
Mr.  Elmer  B.  Silver.  Lewis  never  revised  any  of 
the  poems  for  printing  and,  indeed,  he  took  little 
care  to  preserve  his  manuscripts.  In  consequence, 
many  of  his  cleverest  things  have  disappeared, 
among  them  some  lines,  written  on  a  piece  of  paper 
less  than  an  inch  square,  wherein  the  scrap  ap- 
pealed not  to  be  thrown  away.  The  bulk  of  the 
poems  in  this  book  would  probably  have  been  lost 
long  ago  except  for  the  appreciative  interest  of  a 
classmate,  Archibald  M.  Strong,  who  in  1904  per- 
suaded the  author  to  write  out  for  him  a  fairly  com- 
plete collection  of  the  verses  composed  up  to  that 
time.  The  book  containing  that  collection  has  been 
used  in  the  preparation  of  this,  and  Dr.  Strong  has 
given  valuable  co-operation  in  the  editing. 

The  poems  have  been  arranged  herein,  not  ac- 
cording to  any  set  demarcations,  yet  with  some  re- 
gard to  their  natural  grouping.  For  instance,  flip- 
pancies of  college  days  will  be  found  in  one  group 
and  translations  from  the  classics  in  another.  Triv- 
ial things  and  boyish,  imperfect  items  have  been 
included  for  the  sake  of  their  personal  interest. 
Slight  modifications  of  the  wording  and  several 
changes  of  the  titles  have  been  made,  according  to 
the  editor's  belief  (founded  on  intimate  knowledge 

[13] 


MEMOIR    AND    PREFACE 

of  the  author)  as  to  how  the  various  items  would 
have  been  revised,  if  the  author  himself  had  ever 
been  induced  to  arrange  for  their  publication. 

The  whole  may  serve  as  Lewis  Hornblower's 
posthumous  contribution  to  the  treasury  of 
thoughts,  feelings  and  expressions  available  for 
the  brightening  of  the  life  of  his  fellows  in  a  work- 
a-day  world.  The  quickening  influence  of  a  live 
personality  is  ended;  but  much  of  the  charm  of 
that  personality  can,  it  is  hoped,  be  gathered  from 
these  writings. 

G.  S.  H. 

New  York  City,  January  22nd,  1914. 


[14] 


VERSES  OF  A  SHORT  LIFE 


L.  W.  H. 


A 


MEMORY 

H,  Memory,  come,  take  me  in  thy  boat, 

Thy  gilded  shell  upon  the  waves  of  time; 
And  silently  and  calmly  let  us  float 
Back  to  the  past  sublime, 
The  shadowy  past  of  poetry  and  rhyme — 
Come  Memory! 

IN  very  truth  thou  art  a  magic  queen, 
Ruling  a  kingdom  vast  though  undefined; 
Thou  who  canst  show  me  faces  I  have  seen, 
And  open  eyes  now  blind, 
And  let  me  live  the  life  that's  left  behind — 
Strange  Memory! 

FOR  thou  hast  potent  charms,  that  seem  to 

throw 

A  glamour  o'er  the  past  before  my  sight, 
That  mellows,  sweetens  even  grievous  woe 
And  makes  all  pleasures  bright, 
Until  they  glow  with  soft,  delicious  light — 
Sweet  Memory! 

[17] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

MEMORY  (continued) 

SO,  while  I  drift  with  thee  from  spot  to  spot, 

Bring  forth  thy  visions  welcome  to  mine  eyes ; 

Those  scenes  but  half  remembered,  half  for- 
got, 

Where  shadowy  figures  rise, 

That  dream-like  fade  and  leave  me  but  their 

sighs— 
Vague  Memory! 

WHY  wilt  thou  ever  whisper  as  we  fly 
That  this  is  all  unreal  and  truth  is  stern? 
Why  wilt  thou  ever  mourn  for  times  gone  by, 
Times  that  will  not  return? 
And  must  I  ever  long  and  ever  yearn, 
Sad  Memory? 

AY,  truth  is  stern  and  all  must  fade  away; 
Thy  dreams  and  mystic  visions  must  depart. 
So  waft  me  back  into  the  light  of  day. 
I  know  not  what  thou  art; 
But  this  I  know,  that  thou  wilt  tear  my  heart, 
Oh  Memory! 

(1900.) 

[18] 


L.  W.  H. 


O 


INVOCATION 

NCE  more  the  sunrise  summons  us  to  toil; 

We  leave  our  rest. 
Once  more  we  tread  the  old  familiar  soil 

With  memories  blest. 
Far-off  is  triumph;  near  disaster  waits 

With  mien  forlorn. 
Yet  may  we  never  falter  at  the  gates, 

But  bold  press  on. 
Lord  God  of  might,  be  Thou  our  light 

While  yet  we  live. 


AS  through  the  cycle  of  revolving  years 

Each  danger's  passed, 
Lord  save  us  from  our  many  doubts  and 

fears 

Until  the  last. 
With  Thy  great  power  may  we  temptation 

brave ; 
Then,  victory  won, 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

INVOCATION  (continued) 

Oh,  grant  that  we  may  sink  into  our  grave, 

Our  duty  done. 
Lord  God  of  might,  be  Thou  our  light 

While  yet  we  live. 

(1899.) 


[20] 


L.  W.  H. 


N 


NOT  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT 

OT  in  the  moonlight  shall  we  love, 
Where  treacherous  shadows  play; 

But  rather  the  glorious  sun  above 
In  the  generous  light  of  day, 

Where  breezes  of  early  morning  move, 
Tossing  thy  locks  astray. 

NOT  in  the  dance,  the  sensuous  waltz, 
Where  subtle  emotions  blow, 

Breathing  an  incense  utterly  false; 
But  down  where  the  daisies  grow, 

To  gallop  together  o'er  hills  and  malls, 
Thy  delicate  cheeks  aglow. 

NOT  mid  the  strains  of  the  sad  guitar 

Or  tinkling  mandolin; 
But,  while  the  organ  resounds  afar, 

I'd  gaze  on  thy  lifted  chin 
And  drink,  as  the  planet  from  the  star, 

The  warmth  of  thy  soul  within. 

[21] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

NOT  IN  THE  MOONLIGHT  (continued) 

AND  not  with  passionate  words  I'd  show 
The  strength  of  my  love  for  thee; 

For  speech  is  feeble  and  words  are  slow, 
While  the  wings  of  the  soul  are  free ; 

But  just  by  a  press  of  the  hand — to  know, 
And  a  glance  of  the  eyes — to  see. 

(1902.) 


[aa] 


L.  W.  H. 


W 


THE  STORM  BIRDS 

HEN  storm  clouds  hang  o'er  the  raging 

sea, 

And  the  black  waves  dash  up  angrily, 
Tossing  their  white  crests  to  and  fro, 
To  sink  again  in  the  depths  below; 
When  the  thunder  rolls  and  the  wild  winds 

cry 
With  a  dismal  moan, — then  the  sea  gulls 

fly 

Like  a  fleet  of  ships  on  the  rolling  ocean. 
Rising  and  falling  with  ceaseless  motion, 
They  tack  to  right  and  to  left,  then  sail 
With  white  wings  fluttering,  into  the  gale. 
For  they  love  the  storm  and  the  ocean's 

roar 

With  the  ardor  of  warriors  going  to  war, 
And   their   screams,   amid   the   lightning's 

flash 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

THE  STORM  BIRDS  (continued) 

And  the  howling  wind  and  the  thunder- 
crash, 

Ring  like  the  piercing  war-cry,  clear 
'Mid  the  din  of  the  battle,  far  and  near. 


THUS  fly  the  sea-gulls;  and  oft  I  think, 
As  I  watch  them  over  the  ocean's  brink, 
That  these  wild  lovers  of  storm  and  strife 
Are  the  souls  of  the  vikings  gone  from 

life- 
Homeless  and  restless,  and  wild  and  free, 
Ever  to  roam  o'er  the  boundless  sea. 

(1900.) 


L.  W.  H. 


I 


IN  DREAMS  ALONE 

N  my  dreams  alone  can  I  love  you, 

In  the  vast,  vague  realms  of  sleep— 
From  the  babbling  world  remove  you, 

To  myself  as  a  treasure  keep. 
Your  words  and  your  lightning  glances, 

That  shoot  to  the  heart  like  fire — 
These  are  mine  in  the  realm  of  fancies; 

There  alone  thou  art  mine,  Heart's  Desire. 


ON  the  crowded  lawn  I  can  watch  you, 

As  you  move  with  a  queenly  grace, 
And  the  sunbeams  strive  to  match  you, 

In  the  glory  that  lights  your  face. 
I  can  drink  in  the  beams  that  enfold  you, 

I  can  steal  from  your  eye  heaven's  fire — 
But  only  in  dreams  can  I  hold  you 

To  my  breast,  there  alone,  Heart's  Desire. 


C'5] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

IN  DREAMS  ALONE  (continued) 

QUEEN    of   love,   as   you   move    in   your 
garden, 

Do  the  breezes  caress  your  hair? 
Do  the  slim  blades  of  grass  cry  pardon 

To  be  trod  by  a  foot  so  fair? 
Does  the  rose  shed  her  dew  in  showers? 

Do  the  birds  hymn  in  gentler  choir? 
Does  the  pollen  burst  out  from  the  flowers 

At  sight  of  thee,  Heart's  Desire? 


THERE'S  a  brook  where  I  sit  and  ponder. 

As  I  gaze  in  its  limpid  stream 
I  feel  that  your  face  grows  fonder, 

And  your  eyes  with  an  echo  gleam, 
An  echo  to  my  affection — 

None  to  see,  none  to  seek,  none  to  hear — 
I  can  love  you  without  detection 

In  my  brook  there  alone,  Most  Dear. 

(1911.) 


[26] 


L.  W.  H. 


I 


THE  TOAST 

RAISED  the  goblet  in  the  air, 

With  its  heart  of  shining  gold. 
What  is  the  wine  that  sparkles  there? 
Is  it  gay  champagne,  or  Madeira  fair? 
Or  Falernian,  famed  of  old? 


"A  TOAST,  my  friend,  I'll  drink  to  you!" 

As  I  lifted  the  goblet  up. 
But  the  wine  had  lost  its  brilliant  hue — 
'Twas  merely  a  glittering  drop  of  dew; 

And  the  glass  was  a  buttercup. 
(•0061) 


[27] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


PRINCE  AHMED 

TNTO  the  starry  night, 
•••     Beneath  the  deep  celestial  bowl, 
Prince  Ahmed  led  his  maiden  bright, 

And  there  dissolved  his  soul. 
No  sigh  breathed  on  the  wind, 
Nor  lisp  came  from  the  sea ; 
The  moon  behind  a  cloud  was  blind; 
The  earth  slept  silently. 


BLACK  loomed  the  castle  walls; 

Above,  a  million  stars  did  shine ; 
While  dimly  from  the  distant  halls 

They  heard  a  zither  pine. 
Her  lips  with  incense  breathed, 

Full  tender  was  her  look — 
He  with  one  glance  his  heart  bequeathed, 

And  by  a  touch  he  took. 


[28] 


L.  W.  H. 

PRINCE  AHMED  (continued) 

NO  words  were  spoken  then; 

No  words  they  ever  spoke  before; 
But  nightwinds  from  the  darkened  glen 

A  whispered  message  bore. 
Others  had  pleaded  much; 

His  deeds  alone  could  call. 
He  wooed  her  with  a  silent  touch 

And  by  a  glance  told  all. 


WHAT  battles  cried  their  tale 

To  her,  beside  the  tinseled  sea? 
How  many  toils,  and  dangers  pale 

That  would  not  uttered  be? 
What  had  these  labors  been 

That  could  such  passion  wake? 
With  a  touch  he  drew  the  screen 

And  by  a  glance  he  spake. 


HIDE  them  in  purple  shade, 
O  mantle  eloquent  with  stars! 

Thou  wast  for  sweet  persuasion  made ; 
No  word  thy  meaning  mars. 


VERSES     OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

PRINCE  AHMED  (continued) 

Under  the  hallowed  night, 

Ere  yet  the  music  failed, 
Prince  Ahmed  led  his  maiden  bright 

And  there  his  soul  unveiled. 

(1912.) 


[30] 


L.  W.  H. 


SAILING 

A     SOLEMN  silence  broods  o'er  the  bay 
^  *•     As  we  skim  along; 

And  slowly  die  the  sounds  of  the  day, 
Save  only  the  breakers  moaning  away 
Their  ceaseless  song. 


I  CAN  see  her  stretched  with  careless  grace 

In  the  bow,  at  ease, 
All  wrapped  in  thought,  with  an  upturned  face 

To  the  evening  breeze  — 
A  profile  the  dying  sunbeams  trace 
On  the  cold  gray  sky,  where  the  bright  clouds 
race 

Like  a  golden  fleece. 


THE  fitful  breezes  are  blowing  her  hair 

In  a  shower  of  gold. 
So  thoughtful,  silent,  so  cold,  so  fair, 

Like  a  Valkyre  of  old. 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

SAILING  (continued) 

She  drinks  deep  drafts  of  the  cool  salt  air; 
The  spray  flies  up,  but  she  does  not  care, 
For  only  God  and  the  sea  are  there — 
God  and  the  sea  are  everywhere — 
Her  heart  is  wrapped  in  unconscious  prayer, 
And  her  thoughts  untold. 

(1902.) 


[3*] 


L.  W.  H. 


THE  NORTH  POLE 

A  LL  dark  and  cold,  mysterious,  sublime, 
*•     She  sits  upon  the  summit  of  the  earth, 
Where  she  will  be  until  the  end  of  time, 
And  has  been  since  its  birth. 

A  CORSELET  smooth,   of  ice,  unbroken, 

bright, 

Girdeth  her  breasts  in  curves  that  every- 
where 

Reflect  and  radiate  in  golden  light 
Her  locks  of  waving  hair. 

THE  dark  folds  of  her  purple  mantle  float, 
Set  with  a  thousand  diamonds,  wide  and 

far; 
And  one  bright  diamond  clasps  it  to  her 

throat — 
The  gleaming  polar  star. 


[33] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

THE  NORTH  POLE  (continued) 

AND,  siren-like,  she  lures  men  on  to  death — 
Brave  mariners,  who  fear  not  sea  nor  sky. 

She  breathes  upon  them  with  her  icy  breath ; 
In  solitude  they  die. 


DESTRUCTION  waits  the  bold,  who  seek 

to  know 

Her  secrets,  or  to  look  upon  her  face — 
Except  the  dull,  unthinking  Esquimo, 
Her  own  peculiar  race. 

(1900.) 


[34] 


L.  W.  H. 


T 


A  SLIGHT  MISTAKE 

HE  waves  roared  loud  and  the  waves  dashed 

high, 

And  madly  leapt  to  a  scowling  sky. 
The  ship  rolled  round  in  the  trough  of  the 

sea, 
And  the  crew  were  as  drunk  as  a  crew  could 

be. 

"Steer  to  the  north,"  the  captain  said, 
"By  the  polar  star  there  swinging  ahead." 
The  pilot  looked ;  but  he  saw  no  star 
Save  one,  gleaming  bright  in  the  mist  afar. 
He  bore  hard-a-port,  the  pilot  he, 
And  the  rest  bore  port  till  they  couldn't  see ; 
And  the  north  star  brighter  and  brighter 

grew 

Till  it  seemed  that  the  sun  had  hove  in  view. 
"It  may  be  drink,  or  it  may  be  dreams," 
Said  the  pilot  at  last,  "but  blast  my  beams 
If  I  steer  by  that  blooming  star  any  more — 

[35] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  SLIGHT  MISTAKE  (continued) 

No,  not  if  the  currents  heave  us  ashore." 
Then  the  captain  cursed,  and  he  gripped  the 

wheel, 
And  swung  up  his  ship  on  the  end  of  her 

keel; 
And  the  rays  of  the  north  star,  gleaming 

bright, 

Were  cutting  the  fog  to  the  left  and  right. 
Then  all  at  once,  from  the  mist  ahead 
Came  the  booming  of  breakers,  rhythmic, 

dread! 
The  spray  dashed  high  on  the  light-house 

wall, 

Standing  cold  and  gray — and  that  is  all. 

(1900.) 


[36] 


L.  W.  H. 


I 


CHANGE 

SAW  a  warrior  at  dawn  of  day, 

Standing  with  folded  arms  upon  the  shore. 
I  turned  to  watch  him  ere  I  went  my  way — 

This  man  of  rugged  war. 

IN  admiration  bound  I  paused  to  gaze 
Upon  his  massive  form  and  noble  mien; 

Upon  the  scars  that  marred  his  swarthy  face, 
So  fearlessly  serene. 

"O  MAN  of  war!  O  tower  of  strength!"  I 
mused, 

"Thy  mighty  limbs  the  storms  of  life  defy. 
Inured  to  hardships  and  to  blows  well  used, 

Could'st  thou  decay  or  die?" 


[37] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

CHANGE  (continued) 

AS  sunset  came,  there  wandered  o'er  the 

sands 
A  frail  man,  withered,  bent  with  weight  of 

years, 
Who  leaned   upon  the   cane  between  his 

hands, 
Oppressed  by  childish  fears. 


AND  in  this  tottering,  aged  man  I  saw 
The  warrior  who  in  strength  and  grandeur 
stood 

(It  could  not  be  so  many  years  before) 
Beside  this  very  wood. 


YES,  thus  must  strength  and  beauty  fade 

away, 

All  that  is  lovely,  all  that  seemeth  high. 
Thus  everything  must  falter  and  decay, 
Rise,  shine,  then  fade  and  die. 

(1898.) 


[38] 


L.  W.  H. 


CONTRA  ELEGIAM 

"SOME  village  Hampden  that  with  dauntless  breast 
The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood, 

Some  mute,  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest, 
Some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood." 

— Oray't  Elegy. 

O  genius  ever  dragged  a  silent  life 
Inglorious  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave, 

Apart  from  manly  thought  and  manly  strife, 
Unmindful  of  the  honor  he  should  crave. 

NO  Cromwell,  when  he  heard  the  stirring 
din 

That  marked  the  raging  conflict  far  away, 
Would  crush  the  ardor  of  his  heart  within 

And  live  secluded  from  his  country's  fray. 

NO  Milton,  in  a  quiet  rustic  town, 
Would  dwell  unspeaking  while  the  plan- 
ets roll — 

All  heedless  of  ambition's  call,  to  drown 
The  noblest  inspirations  of  his  soul. 

[39] 


VERSES    OP    A    SHORT    LIFE 

CONTRA  ELEGIAM  (continued) 

OFT  from  the  humblest,  lowliest  ranks  of 

men, 
Those  with  the  hearts  of  heroes  upward 

press 

And  reach  the  summit  after  toil  and  pain, 
Where  Glory  waits  to  herald  their  suc- 
cess. 

(1897-) 


[40] 


L.  W.  H. 


THE  MIRAGE 

kHE  sinking  sunbeams  glisten  on  the  sands; 

The  desert  stretches  wide  in  golden  light ; 
And  far  away  the  distant  caravans 

Wind  ever  on,  and  disappear  from  sight 
Where  flocks  of  fleecy  clouds  are  skimming 
past 

To  sink  and  settle  in  the  west  at  last. 


BUT  lo,  the  heavens  seem  to  burst  in  flame! 

Wildly  the  hordes  of  Islam  hasten  on, 
Shouting  afar  their  warlike  prophet's  name. 

They  sweep  along  beneath  the  setting  sun, 
They  pass  with  trampling  steeds  and  clang 

of  arms, 
While  earth  re-echoes  with  their  wild  alarms. 


AND  now  the  crimson  mellows  into  gold. 
Vast  cities  seem  to  stretch  from  sea  to  sea, 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

THE  MIRAGE  (continued) 

In  pomp  of  glory  and  of  wealth  untold — 

A  scene  of  oriental  luxury. 
And    dome-crowned    mosques   and   palaces 

arise 
'Mid  palms  and  gardens  green  against  the 

skies. 

SLOWLY  the  gold  dissolves;  the  cities  fall; 

The  gilded  scene  now  softly  fades  away. 
Here  stands  a  column,  or  a  shattered  wall, 

While  all  the  rest  has  vanished  with  the 

day. 

At  last  these  very  remnants  disappear; 
The  silent  desert  stretches  dark  and  drear. 

THUS,  O  Arabia!  was  thy  sudden  rise, 
Thy  wealth,  thy  grandeur,  and  thy  swift 

decline. 

And  thou  hast  left  few  relics  for  our  eyes — 

Yet  one  attests  thy  grandeur  to  mankind ; 

The   great   Alhambra  stands  at   this  late 

hour 
The  last  and  noblest  symbol  of  thy  power. 

(1899.) 


L.  W.  H. 


FANATICS 

\  CCURSED  they  stand,  a  lonely  band, 

From  age  to  age. 

Long  have  they  borne  the  brunt  of  scorn, 
Contempt,  and  rage. 

THEY  saw  life  through  a  crooked  view; 

This  was  the  crime 
For  which  they  bled,  toiled,  suffered,  fled 

In  every  clime. 

THEY  dared  to  fight  for  what  was  right, 

As  they  believed. 
They  shut  their  ears  to  all  the  jeers 

Which  they  received. 

THEIR  bodies  wet  with  blood  and  sweat, 

They  did  not  swerve; 
And  Heaven  knows  they  bore  their  blows 

With  iron  nerve. 

[43] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

FANATICS  (continued) 

THEY  sowed  the  seeds  of  mighty  deeds 

Both  good  and  bad, 
While  those  that  saw  looked  on  in  awe 

And  called  them  mad. 


TOO  great  a  flood  of  such  fierce  blood 

Might  wreck  mankind ; 
Yet  they  inspire  the  world  with  fire, 

Zeal  unconfined. 

(1900.) 


[44] 


L.  W.  H. 


D 


THE  SYLVAN  DANCE 

ARK  shadows  fall  upon  the  woods, 

The  silver  moon  comes  forth ; 
The  bright  stars  rival  in  their  light 

The  streamers  of  the  north. 

THERE  is  a  grassy  forest  glade 
Whereon  the  moon  shines  down, 

And  casts  a  widening  spell  of  light 
That  circles  it  around. 

AND  here  the  jovial  satyrs  dance 

Within  the  laughing  light, 
And  join  the  graceful  forest  nymphs, 

Who  come  in  robes  of  white. 

THE  wood  scene  glows  and  sparkles  bright, 

Rich  music  fills  the  air, 
And  sweetly,  gayly  glide  about 

The  jocund  and  the  fair. 

[45] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

THE  SYLVAN  DANCE  (continued) 

THEY  turn,  they  whirl  in  joyous  throng ; 

The  nymphs  and  satyrs  sing; 
And  cheery  are  the  mystic  rites 

Within  the  magic  ring. 

THEN  slower,  slower  grows  the  dance; 

The  light  begins  to  wane; 
The  music  softens  now,  and  swells, 

And  dies  away  again. 

OH,  softly,  softly  breathe  and  watch ; 

The  dance  is  growing  slow, 
And  sadly  dim  the  shadows  flit, 

And  gently  fades  the  glow. 

THE  sylvan  bells  have  died  away ; 

The  moonlit  glade  is  cleared; 
The  satyrs  and  the  forest  nymphs 

Alike  have  disappeared. 

HOW  quickly  all  bright  visions  come 

And  quickly  flee  away; 
Yet  often  leave  within  the  heart 
Balm  for  another  day. 

(1898.) 
[46] 


L.  W.  H. 


FRAGMENT 

GOLDEN  gleam  was  lying 

Along  the  darkling  bay; 
A  distant  song  was  dying, 

From  halls  across  the  way; 
There  was  a  soft  caress,  it  seemed, 

Within  the  very  air; 
And  on  the  spot  a  dream  I  dreamed, 
Supremely  sweet,  divinely  fair. 

(1910.) 


[47] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


H 


A  SKIRT  DANCE 

OW  gracefully  the  silken  bands 

Alternately  open  and  close, 
Widen  into  their  separate  strands 

And  delicately  expose 
The  rounded  limbs,  as  the  curve  expands ; 

Then  sink  into  rival  rows. 


ON,  on,  dance  on,  swing  round  the  lace, 

The  lace  that  baffles  me 
Like  tantalizing  clouds  that  chase 

Over  the  bay,  and  fitfully 
Shut  it  before  the  mariner's  face, 

Home-gazing  wistfully. 

(1902.) 


[48] 


L.  W.  H. 


SHE  SMILES 

'HE  smiles.    Those  sweet  responsive  eyes 
Light  up;  the  dimples  slowly  spread; 

And  flashes  forth  in  gay  surprise 
The  very  hair  around  her  head. 

AH,  who  can  such  a  spell  withstand? 

Along  the  keyboard  of  the  heart, 
Like  notes  beneath  some  master  hand, 

A  thousand  wild  sensations  dart. 

CHROMATICS  piercing,  sharp  and  weird, 
Through  tremulos  of  pure  delight, 

Ere  dancing  runs  have  disappeared 
In  minors,  yearning  infinite. 

WHILE  passion's  thundering  chords  re- 
sound, 

Arpeggios  of  fear  sweep  past 
Until  the  slow  retard  brings  'round 

Soft,  dulcet  cadences,  at  last. 

[49] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

SHE  SMILES  (continued) 

DOES  fear  or  wild  desire  excel? 

Does  joy  predominate  or  pain? 
I  know  not;  but  the  echoes  swell 

With  sweet  contentment  in  their  train. 

(1903.) 


[50] 


L.  W.  H. 


N 


A  LANDSCAPE 

OW  Winter  has  unbound  her  tossing  locks, 
The  snow  hangs  to  the  mountain's  flanks ; 
The  dismal  forest  groans  and  rocks, 
The  hoary  cliff  withstands  the  shocks 

Of  crested  ocean's  charging  ranks ; 
The  little  rill,  beneath  its  glassy  coat, 
Hides  from  the  blast,  with  quaintly  gurgling 
throat. 

(1904.) 


[SO 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


W 


RESIGNATION 

E  wandered  o'er  the  meadows  fair, 

We  wandered  o'er  the  lea, 
She  with  her  loose  and  waving  hair 

And  grace  so  wild  and  free. 
Roll  ever  on,  ye  little  brook, 

And  roll  right  merrily ; 
For  we  alone  are  all  the  world 

And  she  is  all  for  me. 


THEY  wandered  o'er  the  meadows  fair, 

They  wandered  o'er  the  lea ; 
And  she  had  bound  her  waving  hair, 

And  lost  that  grace  so  free. 
Roll  sadly  on,  ye  little  brook, 

Yea,  roll  on  wearily; 
For  there  are  others  in  the  world 

And  she's  no  more  for  me. 


[52] 


L.  W.  H. 

RESIGNATION  (continued) 

AND  yet  'tis  better  so,  perhaps; 

For  frank  and  brave  is  he. 
The  eighteenth  summer  ever  saps 

A  grace  so  wild  and  free. 
So  let  them  wander  hand  in  hand, 

A  happy  pair  to  see, 
And  leave  me  lonely  with  my  pipe — 

She's  far  too  good  for  me. 

(1900.) 


[53] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


H 


A  BOY  POET'S  FIRST  SONG 

URRAH !  the  Roman  corpses 

Lie  in  the  forest  far. 
Hurrah!  for  Varus  mounts  no  more 

In  a  triumphal  car. 

HURRAH!  the  Romans  tried  to  yoke 

Two  lions  to  the  plough; 
The  lions  broke  their  puny  bonds — 

Where  are  the  Romans  now? 

HURRAH  for  brave  Arminius! 

Who  led  us  to  the  fight, 
The  Suevians  and  Cheruskians, 

For  freedom  just  and  right. 

HURRAH !  the  news  was  brought  to  Rome; 

The  Imperator  saw 
And  heard  the  fatal  message 

That  Varus  was  no  more. 

[54] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  BOY  POET'S  FIRST  SONG  (continued) 

THEN  Octavius  Augustus 

Against  the  unmoved  wall 
Smote  thrice  his  head  and  cried  aloud 

In  anguish  through  the  hall: 
"Varus!  Varus!  give  me 

Back  my  legions,  Varus," 

(1894.) 


C55] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


R 


ANOTHER  JUVENILE  EFFORT 

OSY-FINGERED  Aurora  appears 

High  over  .ZEtolia's  hills; 
Dewy  morning  discloses  a  maiden 

Thinking  tearfully  over  her  ills. 


FROM  her  beautiful  cheek  the  soft  West- 
wind, 

Sweet  Zephyrus,  brushes  a  tear, 
And  as  he  sweeps  over  her  shoulder 

He  speaks  words  of  love  in  her  ear. 

"COOL  West-wind,  thy  breezes  console  me ; 

Waft  the  sorrow  away  from  my  heart. 
Fan  my  cheek,  O  Favonius!     I  love  thee; 

From  thee  I  wish  never  to  part." 

BUT  Zephyr's  amours  to  the  maiden 
Are  stayed  by  a  terrible  noise — 

The  keen  piercing  blast  of  the  North-wind, 
And  the  sound  of  a  moaning,  hoarse  voice. 

[56] 


L.  W.  H. 

ANOTHER  JUVENILE  EFFORT  (continued) 

"O  MAIDEN !"  the  voice  sounded  gruffly, 
"O  maiden;  come  thou  and  be  mine." 

'Twas  wild  Boreas  who  frightened  the  damsel 
As  she  sprang  from  her  pleasant  recline. 

"I  LOVE  thee,  O  maiden,  I  love  thee, 
No  harm  from  me  thou'lt  receive; 

Come !  come  to  my  home  in  the  northland, 
With  pleasures  thou  canst  not  perceive." 

BUT  the  maiden  called,  and  called  loudly, 

On  Zeus,  the  all-father,  to  save, 
And  vainly  mild  Zephyrus  struggled, 

Little  help  to  the  maiden  he  gave. 

BOREAS,  angered  and  wrathful 

That  his  love  was  returned  but  with  fright, 
Seized  on  the  imploring  damsel 

And  bore  her  away  out  of  sight. 


[57] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

ANOTHER  JUVENILE  EFFORT  (continued) 

EVER  more  where  Favonius  wanders 
He  sighs  and  he  sobs  as  he  goes; 

Ever  more  from  the  north  come  the  wailings 
And  moanings  of  griefs  and  of  woes. 

(1896.) 


[58] 


L.  W.  H. 


I 


WITH  A  GUITAR 

N  the  evening,  when  the  twilight 
Brings  the  weary  world  its  rest, 

When  the  mystic  moon  grows  brighter 
As  the  glow  dies  in  the  west, 

And  the  day-time  shouts  of  laughter 
Slowly  melt  away,  repressed — 

ON  our  divan  here  we  nestle, 
Safe,  alone,  where  none  will  seek, 

And  we  sing  together  softly 

Passion's  songs,  too  deep  to  speak, 

While  I  feel  her  hallowed  breathing, 
Warm  and  tender  on  my  cheek. 

AH !  her  voice  is  richly  mellow, 

Lilting  thus  from  bar  to  bar. 
Wondrously  it  calms  and  thrills  me — 

Wafts  my  lifted  soul  afar 
On  the  wings  of  music,  springing 

From  the  heart  of  my  guitar. 

(1900.) 

[59] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


LAWRENCEVILLE  1900  CLASS  ODE 


nr^HE  solemn  hour  of  parting  is  at  hand. 
•*•       We,  who  so  long  have  formed  this  little 

band 
Of    friends    and    classmates,    gather    in   a 

throng 

With  reverent  hearts,  to  sing  our  farewell 
song. 

HERE,  as  we  stand  assembled  heart  to 

heart, 
E'en  ere  we  know,  the  hour  is  gone  —  we 

part; 

And,  when  the  echoes  of  our  hymn  are  o'er, 
The  Class  of  "Naughty-Naught"  will  be  no 

more. 

WHEN  these  fond  scenes  have  faded  dim 

away 
And  our  school  life  is  part  of  yesterday 

[60] 


L.  W.  H. 

LAWRENCEVILLE    1900    CLASS    ODE    (con- 
tinued) 

And  we   ourselves  are   scattered  far  and 

wide, 
Yet  may  the  sacred  memories  abide. 

THOU  God  of  love  and  friendship,  through 

the  past 
It  was  Thy  care  that  made  our  friendship 

fast. 
Through  four  long  years  of  mingled  toil 

and  play 
It  was  Thy  hand  which  led  us  on  our  way. 

THESE  scenes,  these  friends  and  comrades 
grown  so  dear 

We  owe  to  Thee;  be  Thou  forever  near. 

Keep  in  our  hearts  the  lessons  Thou  hast 
taught 

While  we  were  still  the  sons  of  "Naughty- 
Naught." 

DEEP  in  our  hearts  through  every  good  or 
ill, 

[61] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

LAWRENCEVILLE    1900    CLASS    ODE    (con- 
tinued) 

Be  Thou,  oh  Lord,  our  guide  and  guardian 

still, 

That  ever  we,  in  word  and  deed  and  thought, 
Bring   honor    to   the    Class   of    "Naughty 

Naught." 

(1900.) 


[62] 


L.  W.  H. 


'OLLA  PODRIDA"  DEDICATION 


T 


HE  time  draws  nigh  that  ends  our  school 

career ; 
The  last  days  are  approaching,  soon  to 

pass. 
Then  would  we  leave  this  simple  volume 

here 

To  carry  on  the  memory  of  our  Class — 
A  record  of  our  work  and  of  our  play, 

A  record  of  our  cares  and  hopes  and  joys, 
And  a  memento  when  we're  far  away 
And    Lawrenceville    is    shelt'ring    other 
boys. 

THIS  is  its  purpose.    So,  to  each  good 

friend 
Who  loves    The   School   and    helps   to 

spread  its  fame, 

To  all  the  loyal  fellows,  who  defend 
Its  honor  and  who  reverence  its  name, 

[63] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

"OLLA  PODRIDA"  (continued) 

To  any  who  perchance  some  interest  take 
In  glancing  through  a  book  of  school-boy 

lore — 
To  each  and  all  of  you  we  dedicate 

And  pray  you  open  this  and  look  it  o'er. 

(1900.) 


[64] 


L.  W.  H. 


ON  A  GREEK  CONDITION 

TTOW  hard  is  the  lot  of  a  captive  taken  in 
war, 

Bound  by  chains  to  the  rail  of  the  triumph 

car, 
Choked  with  dust,  dragged  on  with  a  jolt 

and  a  jar. 


I,  TOO,  am  bound  to  a  car  by  brazen  chains. 

While  Latin  and  Greek,  grim  drivers,  fling 
out  the  reins, 

The  car  its  pitiless,  purposeless  pace  main- 
tains. 


TO  left  and  right  the  river  of  knowledge 

gleams 
Limpid    and    bright,    fed    by    a    thousand 

streams 
That  flow  from  the  hill  of  thoughts  through 

the  vale  of  dreams. 
[65] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

ON  A  GREEK  CONDITION  (continued) 

THE  deeds  of  the  past  in  a  turbulent  tor- 
rent race ; 

The  river  of  science  sweeps  on  at  an  even 
pace; 

The  golden  ripples  of  fancy  and  fiction 
chase. 

"DRINK!"  cries  my  burning  throat,  "ere 
the  bank  recedes." 

"Drink!"  cries  my  soul;  for  truly  the  spirit 
bleeds — 

But  the  skeleton  drivers  lash  their  tireless 
steeds, 

And  on,  ever  on,  the  classical  car  pro- 
ceeds. 

(1902.) 


[66] 


L.  W.  H. 


THE  ELECT 

hat-band  waxing  warmer, 
His  manner  waxes  cold; 
And  What's-his-name's  not  as  he  was 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

(1902.) 


[67] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


PLATO  VERSIFIED 


C  AID  Socrates  to  Charmides, 

"Do  you  believe  in  killing  fleas?" 
Said  Charmides,  "Well  that  depends, 
I  think,  on  whom  the  flea  descends. 


IF  upon  a  woman's  lips, 

I'd  kill  it  with  my  finger  tips. 

If  it  lit  upon  her  cheek, 

My  eager  lips  the  flea  would  seek. 

IF  it  lit  on  Plato's  back, 
I'd  kill  it  with  a  hearty  smack. 
But  if  on  Kritias  it  should  light, 
I'd  just  sit  still  and  watch  it  bite." 

SAID  Kritias,  "Do  you  speak  aright 
In  saying  you  would  let  it  bite? 
Suppose,  then,  having  bitten  me 
It  straightway  jumped  across  to  thee." 

[68] 


L.  W.  H. 

PLATO  VERSIFIED  (continued) 

"BY  Zeus,"  said  Charmides,  "there  is 
Much  truth  in  that  remark  of  his; 
For,  if  from  him  to  me  it  flew, 
I  might  be  stung  with  meanness  too.' 


HERE  Kritias  said  to  Socrates, 

When  all  had  helped  themselves  to  chairs, 
"You  may  believe  in  killing  fleas, 

But  I'm  for  splitting  hairs. 

SO  if  you  think  it  well,  we'll  sit 
And  you  will  talk  and  I  will  chat, 

And,  when  you  give  me  tat  for  tit, 
I'll  give  you  tit  for  tat. 

TWO  words  may  mean  the  same,  but  still 

(No  matter  what  it  spells) 
We'll  twist  each  one  around  until 

They  all  mean  something  else." 


[69] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

PLATO  VERSIFIED  (continued) 

"I  CARE  not  what  I  talk  about," 

And  Socrates  was  that,* 
"Most  of  the  time  I  have  no  doubt 
I'm  talking  through  my  hat." 

AND  this  was  Kritias,f  "We  are  still; 

Begin,  I  humbly  pray ; 
Consider  how  the  students  will 

Make  sense  of  what  we  say." 

(1904.) 

*  &  Se  jv  2 
t  i>  Se  fy  K 


[70] 


L.  W.  H. 


NARCISSUS  (TO  A  HE-HEROINE) 

TT ERE'S  to  the  Mullah's  Queen 

(How  you'd  like  to  hug  her), 
Whose  flaxen  tresses  serve  to  screen 
The  fiery  locks  of  "Slugger." 

HE  loves  her,  I'd  surmise, 

For  again  and  again  I've  found  him 
Gazing  wistfully  into  her  eyes, 

When  nobody  is  around  him. 

SHE  seems  to  return  his  love — 
She's  a  very  responsive  creature; 

Since  she  imitates  hurriedly  every  move 
He  makes,  to  the  turn  of  a  feature. 

BUT  the  obstacles  twixt  the  pair 
Grieve  me,  that  this  should  be; 

For  our  friend  can  see  her  only  where 
There's  also  a  glass  to  see. 


VERSES    OP    A    SHORT    LIFE 


NARCISSUS  (TO  A  HE-HEROINE)  (continued) 


[P 


S.]     Dear  F :  I  must  make  haste 

To  add  that  you've  good  taste. 

This  little  red-cheeked  lass 

Would  not  break  any  glass. 

I'd  also  like  to  state 

That,  were  I  "off  the  wagon," 

I'd  break  to  her  full  many  a  glass — 

Nay,  many  a  good  sized  flagon. 


[73] 


L.  W.  H. 


ON  A  COURSE  OF  LECTURES 

T    IKE  the  droning  of  the  bee 
•^     Sounds  the  voice  of  old  MacD — 
Through  the  long 

Quiet  summer  afternoon, 
In  the  balmy  air  of  June — 
A  ceaseless  song. 


WITH  his  instruments  surrounded, 
North,    south,    east    and    west    all 

bounded, 
He  can't  be  wrong; 

But  we've  really  no  idea 
Why  we've  got  to  linger  here 
So  deuced  long. 

(1902.) 


[73] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


B 


"ODE"  TO  A  FRIEND 

ILL  TODD,  you're  the  most  good  natured 

chap 

That  ever  sat  on  a  woman's  lap — 
But  you  probably  never  did,  good  Will, 
For  if  you  had  you'd  be  there  still. 
You're  so  darned  lazy  I  really  think 
You  wouldn't  budge  if  the  earth  should  sink. 
You'll  never  reach  heavenly  seats  sublime ; 
The  golden  stairs  are  too  much  of  a  climb. 
Yet  you've  never  done  anything  awfully  bad, 
And  I  don't  think  you'd  be  damned  if  you 

had; 

And  some  fine  day  I  suppose  that  you 
Will  die,  for  want  of  better  to  do. 
Then  whether  you'll  get  to  heaven  or  hell 
The  Lord  knows  only,  and  He  won't  tell. 
But  I  hope  that  I'll  be  with  you,  Todd ; 
For  you're  one  of  the  best  that's  made 

by  God. 

(1902.) 

[74] 


L.  W.  H. 


D 


A  FLIPPANT  LETTER 

EAR  K :    Since  all  things  have  a  time 

'Tis  time  I  answered  your  epistle  (nay 
'Tis  rather  late  I  fear,  but  you  know  I'm 

So  busy)  just  received  the  other  day. 
The  fancy  takes  me  to  reply  in  rhyme, 
Especially  as  I  have  naught  to  say, 
And  when  you've  naught  to  say  you'll 

say  it  better 

In  rhyme  than  in  the  more  prosaic  let- 
ter. 


I  HAVE  been  reading  gay  Don  Juan  of  late 
(Which  may  account  for  crookedness  of 

metre) 

And  think  with  Byron  nothing  is  of  great 
Account   save  pleasure,   and   what  can  be 
sweeter 


[75] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  FLIPPANT  LETTER  (continued) 

Than  to  sit  down  and  calmly  contemplate 
The   wall,  the   ceiling   or  the  plain  blank 

sheet  or 

The  blotter  or  penholder  or  the  ink; 
Think  and  then  write,  then  write  a  line 
and  think. 


AND   most  of  all  when  each  meandering 

thought 

(Meandering  is  surely  most  poetic!) 
Calls   to    my   fancy   scenes   with    gladness 

fraught, 

Good  times  together,  mirthful  and  athletic, 
All  things  that  are  in  Hebe's  high  school 
taught. 

Your  picture,  K dear,  (how  I'd  like 

to  get  it) 

Especially  is  engraven  on  my  fancy, 
Which  brings  me  to  my  point — I  droole 
like  Chauncey. 


[76] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  FLIPPANT  LETTER  (continued) 

DO  you  remember  standing  up  in  stand  "E," 
When  Princeton  made  her  stand  at  old 

New  Haven 
And  kept  the  score  a  tie  (you  understand 

me) 

Amid  a  sea  of  faces  (some  unshaven)? 
We  made  a  bet  I  think  of  Huyler's  candy. 
I  won ;  but  I  fear  candy  like  a  craven. 
If  any  Huyler's  comes  to  my  headquar- 
ters 

I'll  straightway  throw  it  in  Carnegie's 
waters. 


SEA  yet  unseen! — not  faces,  but  the  same 

Carnegie  Sea,  I  mean,  and  not  the  letter 

Which  has  the  honor  to  begin  his  name — 

And  surely  could  be  doing  nothing  better, 
Since  it  will  enter  thus  the  Hall  of  Fame 
And  half  the  theatres  in  New  York  will 

get  a 

Large  Carnegie  C  to  grace  the  portal 
(Which  is  to  make  Andrew  and  us  im- 
mortal !) 

[77] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  FLIPPANT  LETTER  (continued) 

I  WAS  about  to  indite  to  it  an  ode 
When  those  bad  puns  so  rudely  inter- 
rupted— 

But,  never  mind,  we  will  resume  our  road ; 
Take  up  the  argument  where  we  had 

dropped  it. 

We  were  discussing  candy  and  I  showed 
By  Huyler's  I  could  never  be  corrupted. 
And  now  we've  settled  our  hypothesis 
The  proposition  is  about  like  this: 


THE  code  of  honor  orders  "pay  your  bets" 
(Not  debts,  observe;  for  honorable  peo- 
ple 
Quite  often  keep  a  reservoir  of  debts, 

Or  pile  them  up  as  high  as  any  steeple). 
But  I  O  U's  are  very  good  assets, 

For  at  the  start  the  gamester  learns  to 

keep  all 
His  tradesmen  waiting,  till  he  finds  he's 

able 

To  square  his  brothers  of  the  gaming 
table. 

[78] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  FLIPPANT  LETTER  (continued) 

ECONOMY,  however,  would  deny 
The  policy,  indeed  practicability. 
Demand  must  always  balance  with  supply 

According  to  the  best  of  its  ability 
(So  saith  the  law  of  Adam  Smith — not  I — 
And  deviation  is  impossibility). 

Besides   I'm   sure   no   thinking   person 

wishes 
To  feed  five  pounds  of  Huyler's  to  the 

fishes. 
******* 

(1904.) 


[79] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


BETRAYED  BY  A  DREAM 

T  HAD  a  dream  last  night.    I  dreamt  I  saw 
4      Ten  pretty  girls  behind  a  half  closed  door. 

MY  heart  beat  high,  hoping  flirtatious  fun. 
The  ladies  were  approaching  one  by  one. 

AS  each  one  passed  (the  zest  a  dream  can 

give 
Makes  it  a  feeble  thing  to  really  live) — 

AS  each  one  passed  I  kissed  her  on  the  lips 
With  eager  haste. — But,  oh  proverbial  slips, 

EACH  maiden  was  transmuted  as  she  passed 
Into  some  "poler"  sad — and  You  the  last! 

(1903.) 


[80] 


L.  W.  H. 


W 


SUPPLANTED 

HEN  an  old  friend  wanders  in 

And  endeavors  to  begin 
A  pleasant  conversation,  or  amusing  yarn 

to  spin, 

With  a  feeling  of  chagrin 
He  is  apt  to  find  he's  "in" ; 

For  Kitty  dear  may  disappear. 
What? 

How? 

Why? 

Wherefore? — 

"Lynn!" 


POOR  friendship  that  has  been, 
When  you  cannot  even  win 
One   farewell   word   from   Kitty,   for  she 
doesn't  care  a  pin. 


[81] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

SUPPLANTED  (continued) 

An  excuse  that's  somewhat  thin 
And  a  lifting  of  her  chin ; 
Then  a  curt  "Good  day,"  and  she  runs 

away. 
Why? 

How? 

What? 

Wherefore? — 

"Lynn!" 
(1903.) 


[82] 


L.  W.  H. 


ONE  BATHING  SUIT 

"TV/TAN  wants  but  little  here  below" 

And  woman  even  less; 
For  I  have  seen  some  bathing  suits 
111  suited  for  a  dress. 

OH,  Mrs.  Hansom's  bathing  suit ! 

Oh,  wondrous  scarlet  frock! 
Enchanting  dream  of  ill  repute 

Staid  morals  for  to  shock! 

OH,  help  me,  Muse,  to  tell  its  charms, 

This  dainty  little  shred, 
And  Mrs.  Hansom's  snow-white  arms 

Against  a  strip  of  red. 

THIS  was  no  showy  garb  of  state, 

As  on  the  sands  are  set ; 
The  crowds  were  restless  thro  the  wait 

Until  the  suit  got  wet. 

[83] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

ONE  BATHING  SUIT  (continued) 

SHE  took  her  seat  upon  the  raft, 

The  eager  swarm  around, 
All  closely  drawing  up  abaft 

To  see  she  be  not  drowned. 

AND  then — but,  never  mind,  she  swam 

And  frolicked  merrily. 
She  didn't  care  one  "royal  damn" — 

How  many,  pray,  cared  we? 

E'EN  every  Sunday  afternoon 
We  drove  six  miles,  to  lave 

Our  limbs  and  hear  the  gentle  tune 
Of  blue  Peconic's  wave. 

TO  us  the  chapel  bells  were  mute ; 

We  hurried  to  the  shore 
To  see  the  famous  bathing  suit — 

And  just  a  little  more. 


[84] 


L.  W.  H. 

ONE  BATHING  SUIT  (continued) 

BUT  now  the  beach  is  desolate; 

Deserted  is  the  bay ; 
For  Mrs.  Hansom's  heartless  mate 

Hath  wafted  her  away. 

(1904.) 


[85] 


VERSES  OF  A  SHORT  LIFE 


TRANSLATION  FROM  TENNYSON 


VENING  or  matinee  star 
And  a  few  "Scotch  highs"  for  me ; 

And  then  the  whiskey  tenors  of  the  bar, 
And  a  game  with  two  or  three. 

AND  when  the  drink  puts  most  of  us  to  sleep, 

Too  full  for  sound  or  foam, 
I'll  venture  out  upon  the  tossing  street — 

Turn  again  home. 

LAMPLIGHT  and  midnight  bell, 

And  after  that  the  dark. 
I'll  tell  the  blooming  cops  to  "go  to  hell," 

At  Central  Park. 

AND,  though  from  all  idea  of  time  and  space 

My  booze  may  bear  me  far, 
I  still  must  meet  my  good  wife  face  to 

face — 
When  I  have  left  the  bar. 

(1901.) 
[86] 


L.  W.  H. 


A  RASH  BETROTHAL 


W 


HEN  you  two  come  to  marry, 

You  merry  little  sinner, 
You're  going  to  have  Harry 

Up  every  night  to  dinner? 

IF  you  think  Jack  jealous, 
You'll  get  another  guess. 

By  that  time  he'll  be  zealous- 
Ly  engaged  in  rushing  Bess. 

AS  husband  he  will  have  to 
Buy  your  jewelry  and  skirts; 

But  he'll  start  in  running  after 
Some  other  little  flirts. 

AND  you  will  merely  tarry 

Till  he  has  washed  and  dressed; 

Then  telephone  to  Harry, 
Who  will  manage  all  the  rest. 

[87] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  RASH  BETROTHAL  (continued) 

AND,  when  your  matrimony 

Hath  run  its  little  course, 
'Twill  end  in  alimony, 

Dakota  and  divorce. 

THEN  Harry  and  his  "honey" 

Will  occupy  the  house. 
You'll  spend  your  Johnny's  money 

Like  a  loyal  little  spouse. 

WHILE  our  hero,  principally 

To  show  he  doesn't  care, 
Will  watch  some  "pony  ballet" 

Kicking  punctures  in  the  air. 

HE'LL  gaze  at  "Peter  Pouffles," 
He'll  stare  at  "Piff"  and  "Paff," 

Slinging  humour  by  canoe-fulls 
As  he  wonders  when  to  laugh. 

WHILE  the  powdered  "fairies"  gambol, 
While  the  "comic  artists"  chat, 

His  weary  mind  will  ramble 
To  the  once  romantic  flat. 
[88] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  RASH  BETROTHAL  (continued) 

THOUGH  the  eyes  of  beauty  glisten, 
Though  the  smile  of  love  attracts, 

He  will  inward  turn  and  listen 
To  sad  mental  cataracts. 

AND  when  "artistes"  quick,  light-footed, 
By  the  foot-lights  dance  in  glee, 

He,  unseeing,  will  be  rooted 
To  the  spot,  like  Niobe. 

TILL  at  last,  with  bearing  placid 
And  reporters  standing  nigh, 

He  will  drink  carbolic  acid, 
Crying,  "Faithless,  look!    I  die!" 

NOW,  with  all  the  woes  I  throw  in, 

'Tis  a  certain  observation 
That  he'll  go  the  road  to  ruin 

In  despite  of  Carrie  Nation. 

(1904.) 


[89] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


SANS  GENE  PHILOSOPHY 


OHOULD  Fortune  turn  on  fickle  heel, 
Her  recent  kindness  changed  to  hate, 
I'd  smile  at  Fortune,  and  await 
The  revolution  of  her  wheel. 


SHOULD  riches  vanish  into  air, 
Should  comforts  go  and  pleasures  flee, 
And  even  grim  Necessity 

Appear  and  lead  in  black  despair, 

'TWOULD  only  nerve  my  comprehension 
To  try  how  Fate  is  best  beguiled. 
I'd  put  Necessity  with  child 

And  make  a  virtue  of  Invention. 

AND,  till  the  evil  Fates  forbear, 
I'd  seek  a  less  expensive  haven 
And  take  to  "Bull"  instead  of  "Craven," 

With  some  degree  of  savoir  faire. 

[90] 


L.  W.  H. 

SANS  GENE  PHILOSOPHY  (continued) 

SHOULD  friends  desert  when  other  woes 

And  dire  calamities  beset  me, 

I  know  of  those  who  won't  forget  me — 
I  still,  at  least,  shall  have  my  foes. 

SHOULD  sickness  come,  my  ills  to  double, 
Should  suffering  and  disease  attack, 
I  think,  while  lying  on  my  back, 

I'd  keep  from  getting  into  trouble. 

AND  as  for  death,  imagination 

Can  picture  nothing  worse  than  life, 
With  sin  and  shame  and  sorrow  rife; 

And  death  is  but  a  new  creation. 

I'D  take  a  gambler's  chance  with  Death. 

I'd  play  for  double-quits  with  Fate. 

I  might  draw  in  a  royal  straight 
Flush.     If  I  lose,  what  lose  I? — Breath. 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

SANS  GENE  PHILOSOPHY  (continued) 

THEN  strike  your  hardest,  black  Despair. 

I  have  a  mail  you  cannot  pierce; 

And,  though  your  blows  be  sharp  and 

fierce, 
He  will  not  flinch  who  does  not  care. 

BUT  yet  one  thing  is  lacking  still, 
But  yet  one  thing  I  call  to  mind: 
Chloe,  by  all  the  gods,  be  kind, 

Chloe— one  frown  from  you  would  kill! 

(1904.) 


[9*] 


L.  W.  H. 


A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN 

[The  Khan  is  an  inn  built  up  against  the  city  wall, 
which  rises  high  above  it  on  the  top  of  a  steep 
incline,  that  sweeps  down  to  a  broad  lake  cov- 
ered on  its  margin  by  pond  lilies.  A  broad, 
stone  terrace  in  front  overhangs  the  road  by 
about  ten  feet  and  commands  a  fine  view  of 
the  lake  below  and  the  mountains  beyond.  As 
it  is  night,  little  of  this  can  be  seen.  Tables  are 
placed  on  the  terrace,  which  is  strung  with  paper 
lanterns. 

Orthes,  Carteros  and  Calandar  are  seated  at  a  table 
drinking  tokay  from  small  glasses.  They  are 
dressed  in  hussar  uniforms,  booted  and  spurred. 
Other  officers  and  some  civilians  are  seated 
around  at  different  tables,  and,  though  it  is  late, 
one  or  two  ladies,  beautifully  dressed,  are 
present.  Oneiradioches  sits  with  the  three  hus- 
sars. He  wears  the  native  costume,  a  kilt  of 
muslin  with  a  short  blue  coat  and  a  flowing 
sash.  His  hair,  partly  covered  by  a  scarlet 
turban,  is  long,  black  and  silky.  His  eyes  are 
large  and  bright,  but  his  expression  is  dreamy.] 

[93] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

Oneiradioches 

Now  'tis  the  moon's  prime  halt — the  hour  is  one. 
And  all  good  souls  in  bed  are  buried  deep 
And  evil  spirits  have  but  just  begun 
Their  devious  march.     Hurrah !  let  virtue  sleep ! 
Myself  an  uncomplaining  watch  will  keep 
Beside  the  flowing  bowl.    Fill  up  the  glass! 
Calpe !     Leuca !     Mella !     Quick  the  bottle  pass ! 

Orthes 

My  nightingale,  'tis  no  fit  hour  for  rhyme, 
Nor  subtle  disquisitions  on  the  time! 
What  think  you  of  the  fate  of  your  three  friends, 
Soon  to  be  sacrificed  to  make  amends 
For  Aporos,  Hubristes  and  the  rest — 
Far  from  the  gallant  town  of  Eagle's  Crest 
Far  from  the  boulevards,  the  palace  gay, 
Far  from  our  houries  and  our  warm  tokay, 
Far  from  our  pleasant  talks  and  hours  of  ease 
Far  from  the  wit  of  Oneiradioches. 

Oneiradioches 

Far  from  your  gambling  debts  and  tailor's  bills, 
Far  from  your  evening  balls  and  morning  drills, 
Far  from  your  mistresses  of  yesterday 
And  other  ladies  hard  to  disobey. 

[94] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

Calandar 

And  harder  still  perhaps  to  serve.     But  look! 
This  is  rank  treason — We  shall  never  brook 
To  scorn  a  mistress  present  or  unseen 
Here's  to  all  mistresses  and  first  the — 

Orthes 

Lean 

Forward  a  minute — You  may  just  perceive — 
Hist!     Not  a  word!     Pseudes  behind  an  eave! 
A  narrow  squeak!     But  quick,  my  friends,  con- 
verse, 

He'll  think  our  drinks  have  made  us  kine  or 
worse — 

Oneiradioches 

Aha!    The  mighty  shadow  on  the  vail 
Proclaims  our 

Calandar 
Orgo! 

Carteros 

Orgo  hail! 

Orthes 

All  hail! 

[Enter  Orgo,  a  thick-set,  powerful,  pompous  man, 
with  face  much  bloated  by  wine  and  passion,] 
[95] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

Orgo 

Good  evening  all.     Good  drinking!     But  allow 
A  moment  please  to  me  and  business.    How 
Pray  do  you  youngsters  think  to  meet  the  day 
In  readiness  for  marching — Talk!  tokay! 
What  do  you  think?     Does  that  make  beef  and 

eye? 

Help  you  to  march,  to  shoot,  to  charge,  to  die? 
Gentlemen!     Gentlemen!     I    have    called    the 

guards 

As  my  last  battlement,  my  final  cards, 
To  show  this  loud  plebeian  mob  a  trick, 
To  put  them  to  the  turnabout  and  quick. 
I  expect  every  man  to  be  a  score 
And  every  officer  a  dozen  more. 
Our  regiments  of  line  will  never  fight 
Unless  you  show  the  way.    The  vicious  bite 
Of  hydrophobiac  democracy 
Has  gotten  in  their  blood  most  damnably — 
I'd  like  to  hang  the  swine.    An  hour  ago 
I  met  a  sergeant  who  saluted — so. 

[Puts  his  hand  to  his  nose.] 

I  sliced  his  head.     He  got  away.     But  hark ! 
The  miserable  hounds  are  full  of  bark! 

[96] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

Sick  to  the  core  with  treachery.     In  fine 
Only  we  Huns  can  keep  them  into  line — 
So  I  rely  on  you,  ye  understand, 
To  pay  the  piper  and  to  act  the  band. 

[He  stops  for  a  moment  and  notices  Oneira- 
dioches,  who  is  sipping  tokay  and  gazing  at 
the  stars.] 

Poets  forsooth!  and  tokay!      Get  a  knave 
To  make  you  virtuous,  and  a  rabbit  brave! 

Oneiradioches 

[As  if  dreaming.] 

Oh!  woe  is  me!  the  champions  of  the  crown 
From  general  have  descended  unto  clown. 
Oh !  let  a  satyr  preach  you  temperance 
And  get  an  ass  to  quote  you  common  sense, 
Or  ask  your  wives  to  teach  you  to  be  mute 
And  from  a  sergeant  learn  the  new  salute — 

[Orgo  gets  up  and  stares  at  the  poet  glowering.] 

Orgo 
Do  you  mean  me? 

Oneiradioches 
[Flicking  an  ash  off  his  cigarette.] 

The  illustration's  apt — 
I'm  glad  you  see  it. 

Orgo 

[In  a  bellowing  voice.] 

Hound!    I  should  have  you  strapped! 
[97] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

[Draws  his  sword  and  throws  himself  on  the  poet, 
who,  springing  up,  deftly  parries  the  blow  with 
a  table  knife  and  trips  the  hero  with  his  chair. 
Orthes  and  Calandar  seize  Oneiradioches  and 
hustle  him  off  by  main  force,  while  Carteros 
helps  up  the  general  somewhat  dazed  and  mops 
off  a  cut  over  his  eye  with  a  handkerchief.] 

Orgo 
Where  is  he?    Where?    Where? 

Orthes 

He's  fled,  my  lord. 

Orgo 

Fled!  has  the  cur?  By  my  unerring  sword 
I'll  see  him  hung  for  this!  For  better  men 
Than  he  have  felt  my  wrath  for  less. 

Orthes 

What  then, 

My    lord?    He's   but    a    peasant.     You    never 

could 
Imbue  your  sabre  thus  in  peasant's  blood — 

Orgo 
True!   true!   my   noble   friend.     I'll   have   him 

hung 

Tomorrow  ere  the  vesper  hymn  is  sung! 
I  thank  you  noble  friend  that  you  did  save 
This    sword    from    digging    thus    a    peasant's 
grave — 

[98] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  SCENE  AT  THE  KHAN  (continued) 

And  ere  we  leave  I'll  sip  with  you  a  drink — 
And  ere  you  sleep  on  my  advisements  think — 
Will  you,  my  friend? 

[He  sits  down  stiffly.] 
Orthes 

Aye!  that  I  will,  my  lord 
I  think  our  present  fortunes  do  afford 
Some  room  for  thought. 

[Orthes  calls  for  drinks  which  are  finally  brought 
by  Calpe,  a  very  tired  girL] 

******* 
(1908.     Unfinished.) 


[99] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS 

Mother  of  the  Aeneadai,  thou  bright 
Fostering  Venus,  gods'  and  men's  delight! 

'Neath    gliding   constellations   of   the 

Invocation  „:  0,1,4. 

to  Venus  mgnt, 

and  Dedl-         __ 

cation  to       Thou  dost  pervade  and  permeate  the 

Memnius. 

main, 

Ship-laden,  and  the  fruit-producing  plain; 
Since  all  things  animate  through  thee  alone 
Are  born  to  view  the  splendor  of  the  sun. 
The  winds  disperse  before  thee  and  the  clouds 
Fly  at  thy  advent,  goddess.     Earth  enshrouds 
Herself  for  thee  with  all  her  fairest  flowers; 
The  waves  of  ocean  smile,  and  heaven  pours 
Its  radiant  light.     Soon  as  the  vernal  day 
Appears  and  loosened  breaths  of  Zephyr  play, 
Then,  by  thy  power  smitten  to  the  heart, 
Aerial  birds  thy  tidings  first  impart. 
Then    frenzied    herds    o'er    smiling    meadows 

swarm 
And  swim  the  rapid  streams,    Bound  by  thy 

charm 

[100] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

They  follow  thee  where'er  thy  guidance  leads, 
Far  over  mountains,  lakes,  and  verdant  meads, 
Through  tangled  haunts  of  birds  and  torrents 

wild, 

Impelled  by  thee,  with  warm  desire  beguiled. 
Alluring  love  instilled  in  every  mind, 
They  propagate  their  races  each  in  kind. 

Since  o'er  this  scheme  of  things  thou  bearest 

sway — 

Without  thee  nothing  sees  the  light  of  day, 
Without  thee  nothing  glad  or  fair  can  be — 
Then  as  my  sole  companion  I  choose  thee 
In  weaving  of  these  verses  I  design 
To  pen  for  Memniades,  thine  and  mine, 
Whom  thou  hast  willed,  oh  goddess,  to  excel, 
Honored  in  all  things,  and  all  times  as  well. 
Then  o'er  my  song,  divine  one,  cast  a  spell 
Of  charm  eternal.     Meanwhile  lull  to  sleep 
The  savage  works  of  war  o'er  land  and  deep. 
For  only  thou  canst  bless  with  peace;   since 

Mars 
Strongarmed,   who   rules  the   savage   work   of 

wars, 

[101] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Full  often  casts  himself  upon  thy  breast, 
By  passion's  never-healing  wound  oppressed. 
Then  gazing  up  with  comely  head  supine, 
His  greedy  glances,  goddess,  feed  on  thine. 
Drinking  deep  draughts  of  love  from  thee,  his 

breath 

Hangs  on  thy  lips.    Then,  as  he  lies  within 
Thy  bosom,  goddess,  clasping  him  about 
With  thy  adorable  embrace,  pour  out 
Eloquent  words  beguiling  him  to  peace 
Towards  Romans;  since  in  troubled  times  like 

these 

We  may  not  work  light-hearted,  nor  can  steal 
The  race  of  Memnius  from  the  public  weal. 
For  what  remains  give  heed  with  open  ear 
Definition      And  mmd  attentive,  freed  from  every 
of  Atoms.  care  * 

Lest  thou  despise  the  gifts  my  careful  thought 
Shall  lay  before  thee  ere  their  drift  is  caught. 
For  thy  sake  I  am  ready  to  debate 
Upon  the  loftiest  problems — on  the  state 
Of  heaven  and  of  the  gods;  and  I  shall  show 
The  primordial  elements  and  how 
Nature  from  these  all  things  creates,  evolves, 
[102] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Combines,  and  back  to  these  again  dissolves 
Things  that  are  ruined.     These  it  is  agreed, 
Defining  them,  to  designate  as  seed 
Of  things,  or  bodies  generating  one 
Great  whole  or  matter,  and  to  build  upon 
As  primal  atoms,  whence  all  things  are  spun, 
victory  When    human   life    lay    shamefully 

Reason  prostrate, 

Religion.        Crushed   to   the   earth   beneath   Reli- 

Democ- 

gion's  weight, 
Who   raised   her   head    o'er   heaven's   celestial 

screen, 

Glowering  on  mortals  with  a  hideous  mien, 
A  man  of  Greece  first  dared  his  eyes  to  raise 
Against  her  and  combat  her,  face  to  face. 
Him  neither  thunderbolt  nor  idle  vaunt 
Of  gods  nor  heaven  with  threat'ning  roar  could 

daunt ; 

But  fanned  the  eager  purpose  of  his  mind, 
That  he  should  first  create  the  bars  that  bind 
The  gates  of  nature.     Hence  his  vig'rous  force 
Of  spirit  conquered,  and  he  shaped  his  course 
Beyond  the  flaming  bulwarks  of  the  world. 
Far  through  the  mighty  universe  he  hurled 
[103] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

His  intellect;  and  thence  triumphantly 
Returned  to  tell  what  can,  what  cannot  be, 
With  what  fixed  power  each  thing  is  possessed 
And  where  it  terminates.     From  then,  oppressed 
In  turn,  Religion  under  foot  is  trod. 
His  conquest  makes  us  equal  unto  God. 

I  fear  lest  you  may  think  to  enter  in 
1  of        Unholy  realms  of  doubt  and  paths  of 


Religion.  cin  • 

Sacrifice  bin  > 

Whereas    this    same    Religion   many 


times 
Has    caused    what    dreadful,    what    revolting 

crimes  ! 

In  Aulis  once  the  Grecian  lords,  dismayed, 
By  what  fell  compact  horribly  obeyed, 
Besmeared  the  altars  of  the  Trivian  maid 
With    Iphianassa's    blood?     When    round    her 

brow 

Ribbons  were  bound,  on  each  cheek  falling  low, 
And  when  she  saw  her  wretched  father  stand 
Before  the  altars,  with  the  priests  at  hand, 
Hiding  the  knife,  and  all  her  countrymen 
Dissolved  in  weeping  at  her  aspect,  then 
Upon  her  knees  she  fell  in  speechless  dread. 

[104] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Nor  did  it  aught  avail  the  hapless  maid 
At  such  an  hour,  that  she  was  first  to  bring 
The  sacred  name  of  father  to  the  King. 
For  to  the  altars  trembling  she  is  borne 
By  arms  of  strangers,  not  as  on  that  morn 
When,  after  the  accustomed  ties  are  bound 
With  sacred  rites,  hymeneal  hymns  resound; 
But,  with  the  very  age  of  marriage  nigh, 
This  unstained  maid,  a  victim  stained  must  die; 
And  from  her  father's  hand  the  stroke  endures. 
This  to  the  fleet  a  prosperous  sail  ensures! 
To  such  an  act  Religion  then  conjures. 

Even  thyself  will  slip  from  us  I  fear, 
Conquered  by  awe-struck  visions  of 

punish-  .. 

ment.  the  seer. 

How  many  fables  can  these  men  devise 

To  blind  our  modes  of  life  with  phantasies, 

And  thus  confuse  thy  fortunes!     Rightly  so; 

For,  if  men  saw  a  certain  end  below 

To  ills  eternal,  then  with  prudence  could 

They  meet  the  scruples  of  this  brotherhood. 

But  now  there  is  no  motive,  there's  no  power 

To  think,  if  endless  torment  is  death's  dower. 

For  the  soul's  nature  is  unknown  on  earth; 

[105] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Whether  'tis  born,  or  finds  us  at  our 
idea*  *of  birth ; 

invented        Whether  it  dies  with  us,  or  yet  for- 

by  poets. 

sakes 

The  corpse  to  seek  the  darkness  and  vast  lakes 
Of  Orcus,  or  in  supernatural  ways 
Enters  the  various  beasts,  as  Ennius  says — 
Our  Ennius  who  was  first  to  bear  a  crown 
From  lovely  Helycon  and  win  renown 
Among  Italian  races.    He  foretells 
Besides  this  Acherusian  citadels, 
Describing  them  in  words  which  will  not  die. 
Neither  our  souls  nor  bodies  dwell  thereby, 
But  only  shadows  wonderfully  pale. 
The  ghost  of  Homer  rises  on  the  gale, 
Still  flourishing  and  shedding  briny  tears, 
Describes  to  us  the  nature  of  the  spheres. 

However,  as  to  things  above,  'twere 

tbe  Dis-  best, 

cussion. 

When   we   have   found   the   laws   at 

whose  behest 

The  sun  and  moon  upon  their  circles  turn, 
And  how  things  grow  on  earth,  then  shall  we 
learn 

[106] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Of  the  soul's  nature,  with  sagacious  thought, 
And  of  the  shapes  which,  mystically  brought 
Before  us  when  awake,  alarm  the  mind 
As  though  diseased,  and,  when  in  sleep  confined, 
It  seems  we  did  encounter  face  to  face 
Those  whom  the  earth  holds  locked  in  her  em- 
brace. 

'Tis  hard  I  know  in  Latin  verse  to  speak 
The  subtle  disquisitions  of  the  Greek; 
Since  many  things  in  novel  terms  must  be 
Discussed,  because  of  this  tongue's  poverty 
And  strangeness  of  the  subject.    But  the  force 
Of  thy  deserts  and  friendly  intercourse 
Constrain  me  every  toil  to  undergo, 
Lead  me  to  watch  the  serene  starlight  through, 
Seeking  what  verses  and  what  words  may  cast 
Before  thy  mind  the  clearest  ray  at  last, 
That  these  deep  mysteries  thou  mayest  survey. 
Flrgt  Not    the    sun's   light   nor   brilliant 

1f0tthin9gat:  shafts  of  day 

ever  can 

be  made        Must  scatter  the  soul  s  fears  and  over- 

from 

nothing.  awe 

The  shadows;  but  the  aspect  and  the  law 
Of  nature.     This  first  principle  is  laid 
[107] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Before  us — nothing  ever  can  be  made 
From  nothing  by  celestial  agency. 
Such  is  the  terror  grasps  men  when  they  see 
Strange  things  performed   in  ocean,  sky,   and 

land, 

Whose  causes  they  by  no  means  understand, 
That  they  resort  to  heavenly  influence. 
Thus,  when  we  see  that  nothing  can  commence 
From  nothing,  then  the  goal  we  contemplate 
Is  rightly  sought — how  things  may  generate 
And  how,  without  the  gods,  they  operate. 
lAU  For,  if  from  nothing  anything  was 

species  , 

would  "he  made, 

produced 

fr°J?v,          Then  from  all  sorts  of  things  would  be 

anything, 

of'feom  conveyed 

proper          All    species;    nothing    would    require 

seed. 

seed. 

Men  might  arise  from  ocean;  land  might  breed 
Scale-bearing  fish,  and  the  whole  race  of  birds 
Burst  forth  from  heaven;  the  domestic  herds, 
As  well  as  all  wild  animals  that  roam, 
Would  indiscriminately  make  their  home 
In  desert  or  in  cultivated  ground; 
Not  on  the  same  tree  would  like  fruits  be  found ; 

[108] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

But  they  would  change,  and  every  kind  could 

bring 

Forth  every  other.     If  for  everything 
There  were  not  generating  bodies,  how 
Could  all  things  then  a  definite  mother  know? 
Now,  since  all  things  are  born  from  definite  seed, 
Then  each  is  born  and  comes  to  light  indeed 
From  that  in  which  its  own  material  lies, 
And  its  original  atoms.     In  no  wise 
Can  everything  from  all  things  be  produced; 
Because  the  hidden  power  is  infused 

In  special  things.     Why  do  we  see  the 
could  Spring 

arrire 

in  any        Pour  out  her  roses,  and  the  Summer 

season. 

bring 

Her  corn,  and  vines  at  Autumn's  call  appear, 
If  not  that,  in  th'  appointed  time  of  year 
When  the  especial  seeds  together  flow, 
Whatever  is  created  then  must  grow 
During  its  season?     Animated  earth 
Meanwhile  to  all  her  tender  shoots  gives  birth 
And  safely  bears  them  to  the  shores  of  day. 
But,  were  things  out  of  nothing  made,  straight- 
way 

[109] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

At  unfixed  intervals  would  they  arrive 
And  easily  in  alien  seasons  thrive ; 
Since  elemental  parts  would  not  remain, 
Which  unpropitious  seasons  could  restrain 

From    fertilizing    concourse;    nor   be 

They  , 

would  need 

not  need  ...  - 

time  to         Of  time  for  things  developing  from 

grow. 

seed, 

If  they  could  grow  from  nothing.     Infants  then 
Would  unexpectedly  appear  as  men, 
And  trees  from  earth  leap  suddenly  to  view. 
'Tis  manifest  that  no  such  thing  is  true, 
But  things  develop  slowly  as  is  meet. 
From  definite  seed  and  growing  they  repeat 

Their  species.     So  you  must  observe 


These  that 

phenomena 

by^Se*8*      Upon  their  own  material  increase; 

mentary 

atoms.          And  thus  it  happens  that,  unsoaked  by 

rains, 

At  certain  intervals  the  earth  refrains 
From  yielding  joyous  progeny,  nor  yet 
Can  animal  life  deprived  of  food  beget 
Its  kind  or  keep  existence.    Better  far 
You  may  suppose  that  many  bodies  are 
[no] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Common  to  many  things,  as  we  perceive 
Letters  in  different  words,  than  to  believe 
That  things  without  such  elements  exist. 
Why  then  does  nature  constantly  resist 
Moulding  such  men  as  could,  with  giant  tread, 
Traverse  the  sea,  rend  mountains  from  their  bed, 
And  outlive  centuries,  if  not  because 
Matter,  in  breeding  things,  has  settled  laws 
And  what  can  rise  from  each  is  definite? 
Nothing  from  nothing  comes,  we  must  admit, 
Since  things  require  seed  before  they  fare 
Forth  to  the  spacious  realms  of  light  and  air. 
Finally,  since  we  see  the  nurtured  field 
Excel  the  waste  and  finer  produce  yield, 
'Tis  clear  that  in  the  earth  are  elements 
Which,  when  we  labor  in  the  soil,  commence 
To  struggle  toward  their  being.    But,  if  they 
Did  not  exist,  in  some  spontaneous  way 
The  earth  more  splendid  garments  would  dis- 
play. 

second  Nature,  moreover,  everything  trans- 

Argument:  lafAC 

Nothing 

reduced        To  elements,  but  ne'er  annihilates 

to 

nothing.        Anything.     If  mortality  should  lie 
[in] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

In  all  its  parts,  then  suddenly  'twould 

Things  (Jie 

would 

Before  our  eyes,  and  vanish  into  air; 


decay.          Since  there  would  need  no  forces  to 

prepare 

The  loosening  of  its  parts,  or  to  dissolve 
Their  bonds.    As  all  created  things  evolve 
From  seed  eternal,  nature  will  allow 
The  ruin  of  no  single  thing  to  show, 
Until  some  force  shall  meet  and  dissipate 
With  impact,  or  mid  voids  shall  penetrate 
And  so  dissolve  it.     Everything  again 
That  time  through  age  removes  as  seasons  wane, 
AII  If   time   destroyed   them   sudden  and 

matter 

would  devoured 

have 

long  ago       Their   whole   material,   whence   hath 

destroyed,  Venus   ^^ 

eternal.         The  race  of  animals  renewed  by  birth 
Each  in  its  species?    How  doth  artful  earth 
Nourish  and  still  augment  the  constant  brood, 
Off 'ring  to  each  in  kind  its  proper  food? 
How  have  extraneous  streams  from  far  and  wide, 
And  his  own  native  founts,  the  sea  supplied? 
How  doth  broad  ether  feed  the  star  in  space? 

[112] 


L.  W.  H. 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

For  infinite  time  gone  by  and  lapse  of  days 
Must  have  consumed  all  things  of  mortal  mould. 
But  did  this  space  of  bygone  ages  hold 
Bodies  from  which  the  universe  is  spun, 
Then  these  must  be  eternal,  and  not  one 
Reverts  to  nothing.     The  same  cause  and  power 
Indeed,  would  indiscriminate  devour 
All  things,  unless  eternal  substances 
Composed  them,  bound  together  more  or  less. 
A  touch,  forsooth,  would  easily  suffice 
To  kill;  since  any  force  must  break  the  ties 
Of  bodies  where  no  deathless  matter  lies. 
The  In  fact,  because  the  bonds  of  atoms 

SfSf  'twixt 

one 

thing  Each  other  are  unlike,  their  matter 

restores 

fixed, 

Bodies  remain  unharmed  until  they  reach 
A  force  found  sharp  enough  to  sever  each 
According  to  their  textures.     Therefore  aught 
Is  never  actually  brought  to  naught, 
But  on  its  dissolution  turns  again 
To  particles  of  matter.     Lastly,  rain, 
When  father  Ether  pours  it  in  the  lap 
Of  mother  Earth,  will  vanish;  and  the  sap 

C»3] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

BOOK  FIRST  OF  LUCRETIUS  (continued) 

Swells  in  the  ripe  fruit,  verdant  turns  the  bough 
Upon  the  tree,  and  this  itself  will  grow 
Laden  with  offspring.     Hence  the  race  of  man 
And  that  of  beasts  is  nourished;  hence  we  scan 
Glad  cities,  teeming  with  their  youthful  herds, 
And  leafy  woods  that  sing  with  new  fledged 

birds ; 

Hence  cattle,  lazy  with  their  fat,  delight 
To  lie  in  pleasant  pastures,  while  the  white 
And  milky  stream  from  bursting  udders  drips; 
Hence  a  new  progeny  with  weak  limbs  skips 
And  frolics  in  the   grass,   their  young  hearts 

buoyed 

By  the  pure  milk.    These  things  are  not  de- 
stroyed, 

Even  though  it  seem  so.     Nature  will  refit 
One  from  another,  and  will  not  permit 
Anything  to  be  born,  except  the  death 
Of  something  else  its  substance  shall  bequeath. 


C«4] 


L.  W.  H. 


AN  ODE  OF  HORACE 

QEPTIMIUS,  to  Gades  let  us  roam 
^     Or  yet  Cantabria,  untaught  to  bear 

Our  yoke,  or  yet  the  savage  Syrtes,  where 
Thunders  the  Moorish  foam. 

MAY  Tibur,  reared  by  Argive  pilgrims,  be 
The  final  couch  of  my  declining  age, 
The  end  of  weariness,  the  closing  page 

Of  travel,  strife  and  sea. 

FROM  there,  if  an  unkindly  fate  restrains, 
We'll  seek  the  valley  of  Galesus,  rich 
In  fleecy  flocks  and  fertile  fields,  o'er  which 

Spartan  Phalanthus  reigns. 

THAT  corner  of  the  earth  smiles  more  se- 
rene 
Than  all  the  rest  to  me,  whose  honey 

passes 

That  of  Hymettus  and  whose  grape  out- 
classes 
That  of  Venaf rius  green ; 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

AN  ODE  OF  HORACE  (continued) 

WHERE  the  wild  climate  to  long  spring 

inclines 
And   winters  calm;  where   Aulon  rests 

at  peace 
With  fruitful  Bacchus  and  his  quarrels 

cease 
With  the  Falernian  vines. 


THAT  blessed  spot,  those  blessed  vales  and 

meres 
Are  calling  thee  and  me.    There  shall  you 

blend 

The  glowing  ashes  of  your  poet  friend 
With  well  earned  tears. 

(1902.) 


[1*6] 


L.  W.  H. 


FROM  THE  ANACREONTICS 

A  NACREON,  the  Teian, 
•*         Melodious  bard, 

Perceiving  me  to  be  in 

A  slumber,  came  toward 
Mine  eyes — a  vision  sweet  addressing. 
I  ran  to  clasp  him,  close  caressing. 


THOUGH  old,  yet  still  divine, 

Lovely  and  loving — 
His  lips  were  breathing  wine, 

As  ever-roving 

Eros  held  his  hand,  to  guide  him, 
And  tingled  while  he  marched  beside  him. 


HE  gave  from  off  his  brow 
The  wreath,  which  crowned  it, 

To  me.    With  many  a  vow 
And  prayer  I  bound  it, 

C"7] 


VERSES  OF  A  SHORT  LIFE 


FROM  THE  ANACREONTICS  (continued) 

Abashed  and  blushing,  round  my  own; 
And  it  was  fragrant  of  Anacreon. 


FROM  then  till  now  I've  never  tried  to  roam 
Apart  from  Love,  his  follower  become. 

(1912.) 


[118] 


L.  W.  H. 


AFTER  SOPHOCLES 

/^ENTLE  Zephyr, 
Bring  me  ease; 

Fan  my  eyelids  drowsy  in  thy  breeze; 

Fan  my  wandering  soul  to  Morpheus, 
Slowly  slipping  from  the  grasp 
Of  thought  and  sinking  in  thy  clasp. 

O  Zephyr,  lead  me  by  the  hand 

Into  the  realms  of  dreamy  wonderland. 


LEAD  me,  Zephyr, 

Where  the  maidens  play, 

Bathing  their  milk-white  feet  from  day 

to  day, 

Wringing  their  golden  hair 
Into  the  ripples  of  Pactolus,  where 

Medean  slaves  in  myriads  stand, 

To  sift  from  it  the  ever  shining  sand. 


C"9] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

AFTER  SOPHOCLES  (continued) 

LEAD  me,  Zephyr,  to  the  marble  cave 
Where   Hathor  sits   in  beauty   o'er  her 

grave; 

And  from  her  breast 
Flows  wine,  and  he  who  drinks  may  never 

rest; 

But  straying  listlessly  from  shore  to  shore, 
Whatever  gained,  be  ever  wanting  more; 
And  every  continent  his  shadow  haunts 
And  vaguely  wanting,  knows  not  what  he 

wants, 

Until  he  reach  beyond  the  eastern  pale — 
Then  the  dawn  goddess  lifts  for  him  her  veil, 
And  then,  the  wizards  say,  a  moment's  bliss 
Consumes  him  in  the  fire  of  her  kiss. 


[120] 


L.  W.  H. 


D 


A  LETTER  HOME 

EAR  MAMA— 'Tis  brightly  cold  and  clear 
to-day ; 

The  sunbeams  glisten  on  the  snow, 
Like  happy  thoughts  that  dance  and  play 

Upon  the  joyful  heart,  and  throw 
Greetings  to  all,  but  most  to  thee, 
This  day  of  thy  nativity. 

FOR  Winter  on  the  threshold  stands 
And  seems  to  linger  with  a  smile; 

And  Spring  with  Winter  joineth  hands 
And  bids  him  bide  a  little  while. 

Our  thoughts,  like  carrier  pigeons,  roam 

Homewards.     How  bright  to-day  is  Home! 

BUT  nature  is  not  always  fair ; 

The  clouds  descend,  the  showers  come — 
The  dull  monotony  of  care, 

The  daily  toils,  that  chill  and  numb 
The  senses  and  the  spirit  bind, 
To  put  a  polish  on  the  mind. 

[121] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 

A  LETTER  HOME  (continued) 

TO  struggle  on  through  cold  and  gloom, 
To  struggle  oft  without  success ; 

And  if  success  come — shared  with  whom? 
How  like  an  endless  wilderness ! 

And  yet  amid  the  burning  sand 

Doth  Home  her  genial  arms  extend. 


WHEN  danger,  like  a  brazen  bell, 
Breaks  out  upon  the  chimes  of  peace, 

The  pulses  beat,  the  spirits  swell, 

And  scatter  comforts,  health,  and  ease ; 

Or  risking  name,  instead  of  life, 

Mix  in  the  great  financial  strife, 


WHERE  mighty  minds  meet  thought  with 
thought, 

And  all  depends  on  nerve  and  brain, 
And  every  energy  is  taut. 

Nature  rebels  against  the  strain; 
Like  vessels  on  the  sea,  distressed, 
Men  homeward  turn  again  for  rest. 

[122] 


L.  W.  H. 

A  LETTER  HOME  (continued) 

COME  gain,  come  loss,  come  good,  come  ill ; 

One  ever  follows  close  the  other; 
But  Home,  unchanged,  awaits  me  still, 

And  you  await  me  still,  my  Mother. 
Now  unto  you  all  blessings  be 
This  day  of  your  nativity. 

(1902.) 


[123] 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


AS   SUNSET   DIES 


'"TpHE  blood-red  sunset  is  fading  low 
•••       In  the  western  sky. 

Lo!  even  so  the  encarmined  glow 
Of  thy  cheeks  must  die. 


THE  last  light  gleams  on  the  silvery  streams 

With  the  waning  day. 
Thy  soft  eyes  shine  with  a  light  divine — 

It  will  pass  away. 

THE  sunbeams  tinge  with  a  golden  fringe 

The  clouds,  that  chase 
O'er  the  horizon.    The  lock  that  lies  on 

Thy  gentle  face — 

FANNED  by  the  air,  its  wisps  of  hair 

Are  all  golden  now — 
Soon  shall  be  white,  like  the  pale  moonlight 

On  the  mountain's  brow. 

[124] 


L.  W.  H. 

AS  SUNSET  DIES  (continued) 

HOW  shall  we  part,  dear  heart,  dear  heart! 

For  the  night  steals  on. 
To-morrow  thou  shalt  not  be  as  now, 

But  a  spectre  wan. 

ONLY  the  ghost  of  a  beauty  lost, 

With  its  faded  charms. 
Oh,  better  to  lie  down  here  and  die 

In  each  other's  arms! 

THEN  quick!    Thy  lip,  ere  the  moment 
slip! 

Oh,  a  thousand  hours 
Of  love  and  bliss  into  one  last  kiss, 

While  the  time  is  ours. 

DEPARTING  day  shall  sweep  us  away 

O'er  the  shelving  brink; 
But  now  our  eyes  behold  paradise, 

And  we  will  not  think. 

(1904.) 


VERSES    OF    A    SHORT    LIFE 


T 


THALASSA 

ELL  me  not  of  Hell. 

The  meadow  brook  glides  past 
Through  shady  glade  and  sunny  dell ; 
The  Amazon  plods  along  as  well 

In  the  gloom  of  a  dark  contrast. 
And  over  the  rocks  and  cliffs,  pell  mell, 
The  torrent  hurtles;  but,  strange  to  tell, 

All  come  to  the  sea  at  last. 

(1901.) 


[126] 


L.  W.  H. 


An  edition  of  five  hundred 
copies  published  for  private 
circulation  by  GEORGE 
H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
New  York  MCMXIV 


[127] 


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